


Bear Jerky and Midnight Talks

by brocflowers



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Multi, Nightmares, No cheating, Open Marriage, Pining, Slow Burn, self indulgent nonsense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-22 11:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4833347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brocflowers/pseuds/brocflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Plegian war. Frederick and Robin bond over insomnia, jerky, and chance meetings in dark hallways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Frederick knew what he was doing was unnecessary now that they were back in Ylisstol, but after so many months on the road his nightly patrol had become a bit of a habit, one which was so ingrained that he could not sleep without completing it. And he also knew that that with all the excitement generated by the announcement of Chrom and Robin’s upcoming nuptials it was unlikely that the castle guards properly checked and locked all the doors and windows.  


He had been the first to find out about their relationship. He could read Chrom like an open book, and Robin was neither as quiet nor as sneaky as she thought she was, he had caught her sneaking out of Chrom’s tent at the crack of dawn on more than one occasion.  


At first he paid it no mind. Relationships such as these often sprung up during wartime, the stressful, high energy atmosphere of war when mixed with the close quarters of the barracks can make adrenaline feel a lot like love. He figured their relationship, like so many others, would likely dissolve as soon as the war was over.  


He was quickly proven wrong.  


Of course, he disapproved of the union. Not because he disliked Robin or had anything in particular against her. She was a good woman, and a fine tactician. And while for the first few weeks of their acquaintance he suspected her of being a Plegian spy, as time passed he grew to trust, and even like her. He considered her a close ally and hopefully, with time, a close friend. But the problem still remained that Robin was too far below Chrom’s station to make a suitable wife. Them marrying went against all social conventions. Lords married Ladies, not amnesiacs they find lying in fields.  


He sighed. He knew his disapproval meant nothing. Chrom was dead set on this, and if Frederick had learned one thing after all these years, it was that when Chrom had his heart set on something it was nigh impossible to sway him from it.  


The sound of a floorboard creaking up ahead pulled him from his thoughts. A dark shape moved and then disappeared back into the shadows.  


It was late, at least an hour past midnight, no guards patrolled these halls. That, and the shadow’s closeness to Chrom’s bedroom was enough to put him on high alert as he continued forward. He was nearing the end of the hall when he heard a whisper to his right.  


“Frederick?”  


She startled him so badly he nearly shouted.  


“Robin?”  


She shushed him. He lowered his voice. At first he was thankful he did not attack her, but once he saw the blade in her hand he was more thankful that she did not attack him.  


“Miss,” He whispered. “May I inquire as to why you’re wandering around in the middle of the night with a knife?”  


Robin looked down at her hand as if she was just as surprised that she was holding a knife as he was.  


“I-I thought I heard something.”  


“That was me, milady, I couldn’t sleep.”  


Milady, it felt almost wrong to call her that. But he’d have to in a few weeks time, so he might as well get into the habit.  


She sighed and leaned back against the wall.  


“And there’s no one else up here?” She asked.  


One of the straps of her undershirt had slipped off her shoulder, and Frederick was suddenly very aware of how underdressed they both were. Barefoot, in cotton pants and undershirts, her hair was unbound and tousled suggestively. He briefly took notice of what appeared to be a tattoo on her right hand before he averted his eyes for her modesty.  


“No one that I’m aware of, milady.”  


She nodded, and her muscles relaxed somewhat. She slid down the wall until she was sitting on the ground, her elbows propped up on her knees and her head in her hands. Her breaths were deep, even, and measured. Breathing exercises. He’d often seen her doing them before and during battles, and when she was upset. He cleared his throat, but got no response.  


“Milady?”  


He knelt down next to her, and saw that she was drenched in sweat, her hands shaking. And even though her hands covered her face he knew what he would see there if they weren’t; fear. He had never seen her afraid before.  


He wanted to kick himself for having not noticed how upset she was sooner.  


“Milady?” He repeated, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. “Milady are you alright?”  


“Stop calling me that.”  


Frederick sighed with relief.  


“You’re shaking like a leaf.” He said. He moved his hand from her shoulder to rub up and down her arm. “I’m sorry I frightened you so badly.”  


She lifted her head from her hands and shook her head, her eyes still closed.  


“No. It, it’s not your fault. I,” She paused, as if deciding whether or not to continue her sentence. “I had a nightmare.” She finished.  


“Oh?”  


Robin laughed, though it was more of a sharp exhale than a laugh. She hardly ever truly laughed.  


“It’s silly isn’t it.” She whispered. “I could face down dozens of Risen with hardly blink but a simple nightmare sends me trembling to my knees.”  


Her words carried the weight of a secret. It was clear that she felt embarrassed, even ashamed of how strongly her dreams affected her.  


“You speak as if you’re the only one of us who has nightmares. But I can assure you that that is not true. I’ve never met a single warrior worth their salt who does not have them. Chrom, certainly, has had his fair share. And I’m sure they’d all agree that their nightmares are worse than any number of Risen. I certainly do.” He smiled. “At least Risen can be quickly dispatched by sword.”  


She smiled a little at that. He almost asked her what she dreamed about that frightened her so badly, but thought against it when he saw that she had stopped shaking. They sat in silence for several moments before she spoke.  


“Thank you Frederick.”  


“You’re welcome, milady.”  


“Why do you keep calling me that?” She asked.  


“Because it’s polite.” He explained, with no small amount of snark. “You’re to be royalty in a few short weeks.”  


He stood and offered his hand, which she accepted, and pulled her to her feet.  


“Well, I’m going to have to ask you to stop.” She said, turning the knife over in her fingers. “After all, I’m not married yet.”  


“I can’t promise anything.”  


She laughed at that, a real laugh, and started to make her way back down the hall to Chrom’s room.  


“Goodnight, Frederick.”  


“Goodnight, milady.” He replied. He would uphold standard etiquette, even if no one else would.  


She gave him a look over her shoulder before disappearing behind the heavy bedroom door.


	2. Chapter 2.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well the first thing we’ll need to work on is that foul mouth of your’s.”  
> Robin looked at him blankly.  
> “We?”  
> Frederick set his jaw. No turning back now.  
> “Yes, milady. We.” He said. “I can’t have you embarrassing Chrom and yourself in front of one of the richest and most powerful families in Ylisse.”  
> “So you’re offering to help?”  
> “As best I can.” He said. “They already disapprove of you and your entire existence. The best I can offer is to help minimize the damage done. Understood?”  
> She nodded yes.  
> “Good.” He said. “Now pay attention.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay chapter 2!  
> this chapter ended up being a lot longer than the first one, I'm not really sure how that happened, frankly.  
> also, I kinda stole a joke from pirates of the caribbean, sorry/not sorry

Almost a week had passed since that meeting in the hallway, and Frederick once again found himself unable to sleep. 

Not for want of trying, of course. He lay awake in bed for several hours before finally deciding that it was no use lying in bed tossing and turning. Surely, there was something he could clean, a drawer to organize, something useful he could be doing. He sighed deeply and pulled himself out of bed. 

The hallways were pitch dark this time of night, but that was no issue. He had spent much of his youth here, the way through the twisting, twining halls of the castle’s lower levels was muscle memory by now. He could walk them blindfolded and backwards and still never miss a step. It was part of him now, Ylisstol, as much was his heart, or his liver, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

He saw light at the end of the next hallway, in the Shepherd’s common room. 

His first thought was that someone had forgotten to douse their candle, an event which took place disturbingly often, he would have to give another lecture on fire safety after tomorrow’s Fanatical Fitness Hour. But then he heard movement, pages being turned, the creaking of floorboards as someone stood from their chair. Clearly, someone was still awake. Most likely Miriel, he thought, or young Ricken. Whenever someone was up past midnight it was most often one of them. He stepped into the room to take a closer look. 

The room was long, and had little furniture. Save for the long table in the middle, with benches on either side and chairs at the head and foot, a few assorted cupboards, and a tall bookcase pushed up against the far wall. The Shepherds took their meals here, as well as read, and socialized. Frederick often sat on the left hand bench while he folded laundry, and the kitchen staff often used the room as a pass through to other parts of the castle. With all that activity, the room was rarely unoccupied, even early in the morning, and late at night. 

It was empty now, though. Whoever it was that he heard wasn’t visible at the moment. Either they had moved through the far hallway to the kitchen, or they were Kellam, and hiding infuriatingly in plain sight. 

A candle sat on the table, next to a large book and an empty mug. Draped over the back of the chair was a mage’s coat. Which safely ruled out Kellam. 

Upon closer inspection, the coat was covered in large, haphazard stitches, most notably around the seams of the arms. The fabric was too thick to belong to any of their Ylissean born mages, as well as dyed a very distinctive shade of purple. Which lead him to believe that it could only belong to one person… 

“Evening.” 

Frederick turned towards Robin’s voice. She was standing at the far end of the room, in the doorway which lead to the hall between this room and the kitchen, in her hands she held a brown tea pot. 

She was decidedly better put together than the last time he ran into her at this hour. Her long white hair was pulled back in the same ponytail and braid that she always had it in during the daytime. And she wore the same cotton pants and blouse as she had before except, no, the shirt was different, this one had long sleeves, and her feet were covered with slippers. Which, oddly enough, made her seem far less vulnerable than she had when her feet were bare. 

Her back was straight, her shoulders relaxed. And her eyes, instead of showing the fear she had felt before, now showed her usual measured gaze. Calm, collected, confident, and slightly amused. 

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you, milady.” He said 

She exhaled sharply in a sort of half laugh and moved to place the teapot next to her empty mug. 

“I thought I asked you to stop calling me that.” 

“You did.” 

“How many times am I going to have to ask you before you stop?” 

“At least once more, milady.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him, and he smirked involuntarily in response. 

“Would you like some tea, Sir Frederick?” She asked, voice dripping heavy with sarcasm. 

“If you would be so kind, milady.” 

Robin made her small noise of laughter again and went to one of the cupboards to get him a mug. 

“It’s very late, milady.” He said. “Why aren’t you in bed?” 

“No point in sitting around in bed if you can’t sleep.” She replied, opening the cupboard. “And I had some reading to catch up on.” 

“Nightmares again?” 

Robin shook her head. She had to stand on the tips of her toes to reach the shelf with the mugs on it. Her night shirt pulled up slightly as she did so, and before he could stop himself he found his eyes lingering briefly on the patch of soft skin her movement exposed. He snapped his eyes away quickly. 

“You have to be asleep to have nightmares.” She said. And then, in response to his questioning look. “Chrom snores.” 

She grabbed a dark red mug from the cupboard, and he barely contained a wince as she wiped out the inside of the mug with her hand. 

“Sorry,” She said. “Old habit. Though not one I remember developing.” She continued, smiling. “I could get you a new one, if you like.” 

Frederick thought back to the brief glimpse of her stomach the last mug retrieval showed him. 

“It’s alright, milady.” He said, a bit rushed. “Don’t put yourself to any trouble on my account.” 

Robin shrugged, placing the mug in front of him. 

“Honey?” 

“What?” 

“Do you want honey?” She clarified. “For your tea?” 

“No, milady, thank you.” 

Robin poured the tea and then sat back down in her chair. She took a second to get comfortable before reaching down into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a wad of dark fabric. 

“What’s that?” 

“Gloves.” She answered, pulling them on. She thought a moment, then added. “My hands are cold.” 

“Hard to imagine they could do much to help with that when the fingers are cut off.” 

She shrugged. 

“They do their job.” She replied, rather distractedly, and Frederick couldn’t help but feel that there was something she was leaving unsaid. 

They lapsed a comfortable silence after that. Robin returned to her book and Frederick busied himself with his tea. It was herbal, light and almost fruity. Some sort of chamomile blend, most likely. 

He glanced over at the book on the table, History Of Ylissean Court Etiquette. He recognized it as one of Miriel’s. The volume was nearly as thick as his hand was wide, the print smaller than any he had ever seen, and the content so dense that each sentence must be read twice in order to be properly understood. Miriel referred to it as “light reading”. 

Robin seemed to be having a hard time with it, her mouth pinched into a hard line as her eyebrows knitted together (He considered warning her on the risk of developing wrinkles, but that seemed like the sort of comment Chrom and Lissa would consider “overbearing” and “being a worry-wort”, so he kept his thoughts to himself.). 

It wasn’t Robin’s usual fare. While he often saw her with book in hand, it was usually The General Treatise on Tactics, or something similar. The one notable exception being a cheap romance novel, courtesy of Sumia. 

“I didn’t know history interested you.” 

“Well it does.” She answered, not lifting her eyes from the book. “But that’s not why I’m reading this.” 

“Oh?” 

Robin sighed. 

“Chrom and I are attending an event tomorrow evening.” She said. “It’s the first event of this type I’ve ever attended, and I’m… unsure, as to what’s expected of me.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I tried asking Maribelle for assistance but she, well, let’s just say that she was less than helpful.” 

“Did you try asking Chrom?” 

“He wasn’t very helpful either.” She said, smiling a little. “He won’t give me any real advice, just keeps assuring me that I’ll do fine, that they’ll think I’m wonderful. It’s nice but, it’s not what I’m looking for. So I borrowed this book from Miriel. I always absorb information better when I read it, and I figured that having some historical context as to why the rules are the way they are would help me understand them better.” 

“That’s, very thorough of you.” He said 

She laughed again, small and bitter. 

“Don’t go praising me yet.” She said. “It’s not working.” 

Frederick paused a moment in thought. 

“What sort of event?” He asked. Usually, he knew these sorts of things. Dates, times, events. But the world had become so busy in the last few months, what with the war, and with Emmeryn’s… and with Chrom’s coronation, and engagement, and wedding, and training the new recruits (Frederick swears that the Shepherd’s ranks have doubled in size since Robin joined. She had a penchant, it seemed, for picking up strays.). Even he was having difficulty keeping everything straight. 

“A dinner party.” She said. “With the, um.” Robin waved her hands vaguely. “Fuck me, I can never remember their name. Maribelle’s family.” 

“The Lancasters?” He offered. 

“Yes.” She said. “Those ones.” 

Frederick grimaced. Maribelle’s nature had not simply sprung up from out of the aether, it was a product of her upbringing. (One which she had rebelled against as soon as she was able. Though her overly proper actions and near regal bearing meant that her rebellious streak went unnoticed to all but her family and those who knew them. Yes, Maribelle may have seemed the poster child for stuffy, stuck up nobles, but in comparison to the rest of her clan, she was a down right hellraiser.) The Lancasters were an uptight, judgmental, and easily offended people who valued tradition over all else. 

In short, Robin was doomed.

He sighed deeply. 

“Well the first thing we’ll need to work on is that foul mouth of your’s.” 

Robin looked at him blankly. 

“We?” 

Frederick set his jaw. No turning back now. 

“Yes, milady. We.” He said. “I can’t have you embarrassing Chrom and yourself in front of one of the richest and most powerful families in Ylisse.” 

“So you’re offering to help?” 

“As best I can.” He said. “They already disapprove of you and your entire existence. The best I can offer is to help minimize the damage done. Understood?” 

She nodded yes. 

“Good.” He said. “Now pay attention.” 

Robin held up her index finger and reached down into the right hand pocket of her coat and retrieved a small notebook and pencil. She opened the notebook to the nearest empty page and motion for him to continue. 

“Firstly,” He started. “Make sure to compliment Lady Leslie on her complexion, this will endear her to you immediately.” 

She nodded and set her pencil to paper. 

“Secondly, Sir Richard is a very opinionated man, and many of his opinions are rather, inflammatory.” He said, watching as she filled the page with her neat handwriting. “Especially those in reference to women and the Valmese. I urge you not to engage him on either of these fronts.” 

Robin twisted her mouth up like she was going to argue, but wrote it down anyways. 

“He probably won’t bring up his feelings towards the Plegians because you are one, but I can’t make any guarantees.” He added. “What are you planning to wear?” 

“Cordelia’s coming over tomorrow to help me with that.” 

“Good.” He said. Cordelia had good judgement when it came to matters like these. He trusted her. “Use the smallest fork first.” He continued. ”And don’t talk with your mouth full.” She huffed indignantly. 

“I know that.” 

“Just making sure.” 

He paused a moment to let her catch up. 

“The Lancaster’s are very traditional.” He said. “And while I’m sure it won’t come up, try not to mention that you and Chrom are, er.” He searched for a way to put it delicately. “Sharing a bed.” 

“Damn.” She said. “There goes my ice breaker.” 

“Do you want my advice or not?” 

Robin threw up her hands in mock surrender. 

They continued onward without incident for several minutes before she spoke again. 

“Frederick.” 

“Yes milady?” 

She rubbed at the back of her neck. 

“Thank you for this.” She said. “Really, I owe you one.” 

“It’s not a problem, milady.” 

“No, really.” She replied, leaning over and placed her hand on top of his. 

He stared down at where her hand rested on his. The sudden contact had startled him, and he could feel the heat of her skin even through her glove. He briefly found himself unable to meet her eyes. Her gaze was so intense it was almost like he could feel it physically. 

“Seriously.” She said, smiling. “Anything you need, just ask.” 

Frederick cleared his throat. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it wasn't clear, the thing with Robin wiping out the cup is supposed to be my way of saying that Frederick has a Germ Thing.
> 
> Anyways,this chapter is kinda filler to make sure that the transition to the plot of chapter 3 and beyond goes smoothly...or at least that's what I'm telling myself to make me feel better about how displeased I am with the tone here.
> 
> Chapter 3 is in the works. and please tell me about any glaring spelling/grammatical mistakes. I am terrible at both, and bring Shame upon my mother, who is the grammar sheriff. 
> 
> stay frosty

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued.
> 
> (This is the longest thing I've ever attempted R.I.P. me.)


End file.
